D'Arvit
by Blue Yeti
Summary: 400 years ago, Captain Julius Root was a cheerful, joking man in his prime with a loving family and only the usual type of problems. What happened to make him the creature we know today? Could he possibly, just possibly, change back?
1. Part 1

**Disclaimer: **Commander Julius Root and all his officers belong to Eoin Colfer but Captain Julius Root and all his problems belong to wittle ol' me.

**Author's Note:** This is a story which is all about Root having a life and so it is Root-centered. This contains my reasonings as to why he is such a BBBEEEEEP when it comes to some things and why he's so … sentimental … when it comes to others. It is a ten part series which will probably end up being about 15000–18000 words long.

**400 years ago**

The soft pitter-patter of running feet was all that could be heard in downtown Haven. The feet were approaching the cargo shipping docks and if you were listening even harder you would be able to hear the mechanical buzz of the WingZipper prototype wings from far ahead. The invention of mechanical wings so that all fairies would be able to fly was a recent idea and actually inspired by some of the flying designs by the Mud Man called Leonardo DaVinci. It was amazing how a Mud Man could actually beat The People to anything but he had, and the runner was currently cursing this fact.

Each time Captain Julius Root's feet would hit the ground the impact was vibrating in the most annoying manner up and up, from the toes of his fancy LEPrecon boots to the very tips of his ears. The uniform tri-point hat he was supposed to wear, with its leather belted strap, had fallen off when he had started the pursuit quite close to the town centre. The Council just couldn't see the reasons for changing the design of the LEPrecon uniforms because they thought that the green knickerbockers and little red vest with huge brass buttons was rather quaint. But they weren't the ones who had to run for streets in them. Nor were they the ones who had to make shoes for the Mud Men when they were discovered. Most LEP officers that Julius knew had abandoned that pretence years ago and just used a little _mesmer_ instead. Bloody impracticality of the Council. 

The crook he was currently pursuing was just a petty thief but Julius had been grounded for improper behaviour on a mission to capture some Witchers. He was gaining on the fairy because the wings were starting to fail on him and if Julius was to fire at the wings now he could bring the crim' down, literally. He slowly dislodged his pistol (another Mud Man inspiration) and brought it to aim while still running. The airborne fairy stalled again and dropped a few feet and just as he was steadying himself again, Julius fired. The iron pellet punctured the right wing at the junction and the fairy dropped like a stone onto the hard ground below the docks.

Julius climbed down with the ease and grace that most young elves didn't have and sedately walked up to the fallen thief. He was on his backside and trying desperately to start his wings again as he slowly backed away from the advancing, admittedly badly dressed, LEP officer. 

"You might have gone faster if you weren't being weighted down by such unnecessary items … such as priceless jewels. They really won't do you much good at Howler's."

"H-Howler's … P-P-Peak?"

"Yes, I'm sorry, but that's the only place with beds available. _It is_ in share accommodation with a female Goblin and her cubs but you should be alright. If you'd like to stand up, put your hands behind your back for the shackles and hand over your loot we will be right on our way."

The prospective prisoner sat very still and glared at Julius who definitely didn't like his manner.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. LEP Captain Julius Root, your arresting officer. Get up. Now!"

The thief jumped to his feet and a heavy gold broche feel from his knap-sack. Julius stooped to pick it up and smiled at the fairy in a truly disconcerting manner. The man held his hands out for the shackles and Julius obliged with an accompanying bombardment of friendly banter all the way to the station. 

**Now**

Commander Root pulled a small, framed sketch from behind his bottle of Whisky in the bottom right-hand drawer of his desk. It was a small and insignificant type of drawing - the kind you might get for a few bucks in China-Town. The paper - the parchment, for that is what it was - had crinkled at the edges and in the lower corner the small elfish girl with fabric play wings on her shoulders was smudged slightly because the charcoal hadn't been able to withstand the ages. Root gently rubbed his thumb over the glass and frowned hard, creasing all the lines in his face to twice their usual depth. Why on earth does the world have to work the way it does?

Corporal Lili Frond cleared her throat at the doorway and Root jumped halfway out of his seat. He came back down and leant forward to replace the frame in the drawer, causing the bottle to clink invitingly. 

"Um…Sir?" The Commander gave a weary nod. "I just wanted to ask if you … um … would like anything to eat. It's way past lunchtime and we thought you might need to have something to eat."

"Who's 'we'?"

"Me, Captain Kelp _and_ Corporal Kelp, Captain Vein, Captain Shor…"

"I'm fine. I don't need anything." He said, turning his back on the Corporal.

"But Sir, we know you haven't eaten anything today. We're just worried about you."

"Well, don't be! Dismissed, Corporal."

"But--"

"Dismissed!"

Lili scampered from the office where the air-conditioning must have been stuck on 'Arctic'. It wasn't worth it. 


	2. Part 2

**400 years ago**

Commander 'Red' Gum closed off his morning lecture with a flourish that he was renowned for and dismissed the 7 troops under him.  Julius was one of the first to rise and make for the exit with his buddies – Simon Sycamore and Fredrick Frond – close behind him.  One brownnoser, a Private who almost nobody liked, called Briar Cudgeon stayed behind to try and wrestle brownie points from the Commander.  He would get his just deserts sometime in the future – hopefully sooner rather than later. 

            "Hey!  Root!  Wait up!  What's the hurry, bro?"  Yelled another cadet who was following.

            "I just want to get cleaned up and then sprint off.  It's Sally's birthday today and Maple wants me to be there ASAP."

            "Cute.  How's the little darling?"

            A huge grin spread over Julius' face, crinkling it up in such a way that his eyes were almost lost.  "She's great.  Absolutely wonderful."  And his grin became somewhat mischievous and, if possible, grander.  "Practises her levitation in the mornings, helps her mother cook lunch and then takes a nap.  She's already LEPservey's most trusted officer, of course.  Just like her Pa."

            The mates around him laughed and only Simon responded.  "LEPservey already?  And here I was thinking that your 3 year old had only stopped the Mud Men from taking over the underground, predicted those lava eruption thingies and invented a flying vehicle.  It's amazing that she can do all that when she still can't read.  I think you have a severe case of PPS."

            "PPS?" asked Cudgeon who had sneaked up behind them.

            "Parental Pride Syndrome."

            "Hey, I'm not that bad.  A little joke bragging never hurt anyfairy."  The group of 4 had finally reached the bathing room and went inside, striping off their stinking green shirts and the dark knickerbockers.  "I almost forgot to ask.  Si, Fred would you be able to come along to Sally's party?  Maple wanted me to ask you two because Sal absolutely loves you.  And she seemed to think I might make a nuisance of myself if I didn't have someone to talk to."

            "That you would bro.  You going Out for it?"

            "Just nearby, nothing too far."  Haven was one of the lowest Fairy Forts that The People had so it was quite difficult to get very far in just one night.  The inhabitants just had to make do with the fact that they were safer from prosecution by being so far from the outside world.  "We thought we'd go for a little romp around the grasslands.  You know, over in the direction of that Mud Man village – Thistle End or something completely unimaginative like that."

"Sounds alright.  You Fred?" 

"Sure thing.  I can't wait to see the little girl again.  And, of course, I'm her favourite."

"Her favourite!  How would you know about favourites!  Nobody's ever favoured you in your entire life."

"And you have complete knowledge on the factor considering you're not even married."

The argument continued as they finished washing, putting on their regular clothing – which was something like the Mud People britches and tunics - leaving Briar behind in the washroom.  It was still going as the trio made it's way up the twirling staircase cut into the earth, only stopping on occasion to glare enviously at the Sprites and fairies sporting mechanical wings.  But it finally stopped as they reached the surface and breathed a breath of fresh night air.  

The grasslands stretched outwards in all directions from the point where the fairy fort opened in the middle of deserted land lending it a desolate and lonely feeling.    Julius took point with Fred and Simon coming in behind him as they lazily walked towards some far off flickering fires that they could spot on the horizon.  As they got closer they could pick out individual fairies as they played in the grass or talked.  A few green sprites were zooming around in the air above, sometimes picking up the younger fairies – friends of Sally – and taking them up with them.  

As they reached the party one of the squealing youngsters currently in the air let out a particularly high-pitched giggle and started to lean towards the ground until the sprite, Ruby Rushes, landed and let go of her hold around the child's middle.  She came running up towards them at the edge of the group so fast that all the other adults stopped to watch the spectacle.  She flung herself in Julius' arms and he kissed her on the forehead.  And then she tightened her grip around his neck and gave her own slobbery childish kisses back.  He grinned.

"So I guess that answers the question about favourites, Fred."

"That it does, comrade.  He's wrapped around her little finger." 

Now 

A middle-aged elf made his way into the heart of Police Plaza by flashing a visitor's pass and giving the old reception lady a bright smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.  She just gave a nod and buzzed him through to the high-up offices.  He was walking with a slight limp but it only became pronounced when his shoulders were stooped as they were now.  He seemed like he knew where he was going; but he looked like he didn't want to get there, while being well aware of the fact that, eventually, he would.  He stopped when he reached the start of another gray corridor and just stood there for a moment before making a move to actually reach the door.  

At that moment it opened and a harassed and pissed off elf came storming out.

"Don't go in there.  He's in a _really_ bad mood.  And I mean that in Beetroot standards.  He's not going to appreciate signing any more meaningless papers for you."

"Beetroot?  Is that what the younglings call him nowadays?"

"It is when his face is as red as one.  Who are you? Sir?

"An old friend of … Beetroot."

"Be careful, he might not treat you like one."

"Thanks for the warning, but I wasn't really expecting a warm welcome." His eye's rested on Holly's shoulders.  "You're the new captain?"

"Not exactly _new_."  Her voice was wary and suspicious.

"How's your mother doing?"

"Um… good last time I saw her.  Why?  How do you-"

"-know her?  It's not really important.  I'd better be seeing Julius now.  Nice to talk to you Captain Short."

And he opened the door.

Holly Short was left standing outside the door with a stunned expression on her face.  Something had happened, she had known that it had happened but she was completely clueless as to what it was.  She left before she could hear the suspicious lack of screams.


	3. Part 3

****

400 years ago

The night got colder till almost all of the fairies were crouched together near the fire talking in loud, cheer-filled voices. Only some were still moving and running about – mainly the young fairies whose spirits were yet to broken by years and years underground without the moonlight. Sally and her friends were playing a game of tag but soon that erupted into a fight when Ruby's son flew to catch someone rather than chase them on the ground. Julius and Fred got the nod from the 'wives club' to go and mediate and pulled each other up from the grass. And they grinned at each other as they walked towards the commotion.

"Now, I'm afraid we're going to have to arrest you troopers for causing a disturbance of the peace." Said Fred with a completely straight face.

"Yes, yes. Very unfortunate incidence but we have to do our jobs."

"You're going to arrest us, Daddy?" asked an excited Sally.

"'Fraid so, 'fraid so. So if you'll just hold out your hands for the shackles," all of the children bar 2 held out there hands immediately, "I'll start to… tickle you!" And he lunged at Sally with his arms outstretched.

This wasn't a particularly smart move (as anyone who has ever been with a group of young and eager kids would know). They were all over him in seconds and attacking him themselves. After a moment of council with some of the kids who couldn't quite reach him, Fred joined in and tackled his Captain to the ground. Every one of them was laughing hysterically and in Julius' case squirming all over in an effort to get away from the tiny hands that plagued him.

It only stopped when Ruby Rushes the sprite flew over and picked up one of the kids on the very top of the human pile, rising up into the air and taking the squealing kid with her. The rest of the villianous children fled their tickling rampage to gaze up at the giggling boy in the sky and hold out their own arms in an effort to fly as well. 

Julius lifted himself onto his elbows and Fred help to pull him to his feet. Julius took his first full breath in minutes, before looking up with a huge smile at the fairies in the air. Other sprites had risen to the air and occasion, while the ones still on the ground had a small but persistent crowd around them pulling at their clothing.

Julius and Fred were making their way back to the adults when Sally came bowling through the crowd and ran straight up to her father. Julius was bending to catch her but she managed to stop herself just before she collided, looking up at them with a sickly sweet smile on her face that both Fred and Julius recognised.

"Do you have something that you want me to do for you?" asked Julius.

Sally smile turned a little shifty and nodded.

"Well, are you going to ask me?"

"You know how Uncle Patrick used to pick us with his magic and lift us into the air. Well… could you do that to?"

"Could I do it? Maybe. Will I do-"

"You know what I mean Daddy."

"I'll give it a shot. Just _try_ to hold still when you're up there. It's much more difficult to hold up someone who is moving."

Sally gave her father a huge hug before backing off a bit. Fred did so too, standing behind a little way and watching. It was definitely difficult use magic for telekenisis, especially on a person. Julius closed his eyes for a moment befor opening them and focusing on Sally. Blue magic began coming out of his right hand and lifting Sally up into the air. She gave a little squeal, then became still as she remembered Julius' warning. Then she was the height of the others in the air and sourrounded in the glowing light of the magic. The other children were all pointing at her, gazing in awe at her feat of flying without wings.

On the ground Julius grinned as well. 

He looked happy enough so Fred left his friend to go look for Simon who had disappeared a while earlier. He headed towards the same bushes where Simon had been and was roughly pushed aside when Simon came sprinting out.

"Julius! Julius! Captain! Listen to me!" Julius turned his head to look at the running figure of his friend taking in the fallen figure of Fred. "There's Mud Men coming. A whole village full. They were having a trial for an accused witch when they saw the light. Get Sally down! Everyone get down!" 

Julius acted immediately - giving orders to turn the blankets over a half dead tree; erase all traces of the fire and gathering; prepare the camouflage and gather the people under the tree; a sprite to go to the Fairy Fort. He was giving orders to his men and civilians alike but the tone of his voice was such that it held the authority so the fairies did it without asking. They were almost ready in minutes from when they first had a warning. 

Then Julius turned and began to lower Sally slowly to the ground. She started to pout and protest but it quickly changed to submission when she looked at her father's face. Sally was almost on the ground when a missile thrown from behind hit him on the back of his head. 

****

Now

As Simon Sycamore entered the office he had thought that he was quite well prepared for anything which might happen. He hadn't expected this.

After almost every year of visiting his old friend on this day he thought he was emotionally ready for the routine. He would come. Stand doing nothing, just watching the face before him. He would feel his guilt and Root would feel his pain. 

And it wasn't the day you would expect would be the one that held the greatest significance for a man like him. Death day's. Birthdays. Anniversaries. They were the ones traditional for mourning and remembrance. Most who saw from the outside would consider this to be almost sacrilege - people had died but it seemed as if he was grieving for--

Well, anyway. This day was more symbolic and more special for him personally and it meant that nobody was able to intrude on his introspection. Not even those standing before him.

"Do you remember Fred?"

Simon just nodded. It wasn't really a question that needed an answer. He leant forward expecting - well, hoping - for something more but it didn't come. That was usual. 

Simon was just watching the man behind the desk and not saying anything. It wasn't enough to just be here because he wasn't doing any good… but there wasn't much that he could do in any case. No, it was much better to be here doing nothing with the possibility of helping, than not being here at all. That would make it seem as though he had forgotten that it had ever happened. Root needed to know that someone else was remembering. 

Root seemed to forget the presence standing before him - or didn't care that it was there - and leaned down and pulled his whisky bottle from the bottom draw. He took a swig and saw the picture of Maple and Sally in the very bottom. His hand stopped halfway to his mouth and he slowly put the whisky down. His eyelids blinked ferociously as the eyes behind them glistened. 

Simon couldn't see what his old captain was looking at but he was sure it was important. It was one of those feelings. It could also be the look on his face that told Simon this.


	4. Part 4

**400 years ago**

Julius lay without moving and barely breathing, listening for the sounds of life going on around him.  There wasn't anything to hear.  The air itself was holding a silence that was so poignant as to drive away even the memory of a sound.

There were many memories which were striving for attention but none which his subconscious deemed fit for him to understand and see.  So without his memory, he lay…  Trying to piece together the past from the present.  Which is easier in theory than practice.

The room he lay in was without light but from somewhere a grey imitation of light came so that the furnishings of the room was almost visible - like moonlight shining through thick drapes.  The bed was harder than his own, higher off the ground as well, and there was the painful reality of no warm body of his wife beside him.  The ceiling was low above his head and instead of a wall on his right-hand-side there was only a thick curtain separating his area from whatever lay on the other side. 

            Below the curtain, finally, something could be heard; the slight impact of soft leather slippers on the stone ground and the rustling of slowly moving clothing.  A yellow light from a candle or lantern shone beneath the barrier and came slowly towards where Julius was laid, stopping off or detouring on occasion.  The feet in the leather slippers could be seen under the fabric as one side was slowly pulled aside and a face looked in.

            The face was young and browned, topped with a white cap.  A nurse.  Whatever had happened had lead him to a place of healing.

            "Julius Root?" her voice was young like her face and almost at a whisper.  "I was sent to see if you were awake yet.  If you are able I would like you to come with me."

            Julius looked at her in a slightly questioning manner but made to pull himself up on his elbows.  It didn't work.  He flopped back down on the bed, looking up at the ceiling once more and softly shook his head.  He opened his mouth, but it was too dry to be able to produce words and meaning, and so he closed it again.

            "Don't worry, Sir.  I've got a wheeling chair to help you move.  You'll be all right soon; the doctor thinks that it's only exhaustion mixed with shock.  You don't even need a herbal draught to help your magic, so that's good."  She wheeled a heavy chair next to the bed and half-lifted Julius' torso from the bed.  "Sir?  Could you try to wrap one arm around my neck and push yourself up on the other?  That's good.  Up you get.  There, all save and sound."

            The chair was covered with cushions and a thick blanket – more comfortable than the bed had been.  But Julius didn't dare close or rest his strained eyes but watched the halls and corridors and they moved past him.  He once again tried his voice.  It was harsh and almost painful but it let him communicate with the nurse pushing the chair.

            "Do you know--?"

            "What happened?  Only a little bit and I am not sure if I should be the one telling you even that.  Suffice to say that we haven't had this many fairies here in many long years, considering how most of the time People heal themselves.  It sounded terrible but as I understand it, you were something of a hero - the man of the hour.  Your wife is proud of you, I think."

            They rounded another corner into an area, which was slightly lighter still, and there was a sprite doctor standing tall and the back of a young female elf and the slight view of a bed that lay behind them.

            "Doctor," called the nurse.  "I've brought Julius."

            The doctor turned and flashed the nurse a smile.  "Thank you kindly, Els—"

            But the elf had already turned around and flung herself at her husband sitting in the chair.  Julius cradled her in his arms and rested his chin on her hair.  Over her shoulder he could see the pale unmoving form of his daughter lying in a sterile white bed.

**Now**

Simon sighed once more and his eyes made tracks around the room trying to find something to land on.  There was a certificate of appreciation for some bravery in the 19th Century, a medallion commending Root for valour, the acorns from his first Commander uniform in a frame - it was all his job.  As far as the troops under him would know, he didn't have a life beyond the LEP - which was true.  But it also said that he had never had anything more than his police badge.

            The liquid in a thick glass bottle sloshed against the sides and Simon moved his attention from the walls and their lack of decoration to his old friend.  Root was once again holding the bottle of Whiskey in his hand mid swig.  The golden liquid swirled in front of his eyes, hitting the boundary with barely noticed splashes.

            Root's voice was thick when he spoke but not, Simon thought, because of the drink.  Maybe because of the depth of his thoughts and emotions.

            "You thought I didn't remember, didn't you?  I pretended to everyone that I couldn't remember what had happened after the attack.  Trauma made me suppress the memories… I wasn't fully conscious…  But I remember everything.  Perfectly.  More than perfectly.  And not just picturing the tales as others have told me and thinking them memories.

            "I can remember the smell of the crushed grass when I feel face down.  I can remember the feeling of the air on my face as I ran forward after struggling to my feet.  I can remember the sounds of the Mud Men and their guns and the twanging of a crossbow string.  I can remember the colour of the ground underneath where my daughter lay.

            "I remember running across the grass and kneeling beside Sally.  I remember the fear I felt when I thought she was dead and the relief when I realized she was still breathing.  I remember carrying her in a crouch, handing her over to her mother's arms halfway to the hide.  I remember turning back to face the mob of humans and running towards them.  I remember the looks of fear on their faces as they saw me bearing down on them – I was half their size but they were so afraid of what I might be able to do to them from rage alone.

            "I head-butted the first man I came to and he fell to the ground.  I saw Fred fall with a crossbow bolt in his throat.  I can picture in my head the missiles flying above our heads because the humans were unused to aiming so low; that was one of our only advantages – that they didn't quite understand what we were and weren't prepared for our stature.  At first I was seething; fighting anything I could reach but then the reality made me come back from the fury.  I shouted orders and tried to organize our attack… our defence… since they so greatly outnumbered us and each was beyond our strength.

            "We knew we were losing.  I knew that there was no way that we would be able to win at all.  I knew that almost everything was gone; I had seen so many of our own fall under the fire and then get trampled and mobbed by the enemy.  But I knew that I had to try my very best to give Maple enough time to get away with Sally – to give them all enough time to get away, I don't actually think I was working is such selfish terms as just my family.  Or at least, in retrospect, I wished that I hadn't been thinking in such selfish terms.  And then… The fires on the horizon as the Mud Man village burned to the ground.  I thought that it would be worse then – the men wanting revenge for a deed that they hadn't even seen yet.  But there were deserters and then one of the biggest men knocked over the leader who wanted to destroy us, and they let us go.  They fled back to save what remained of their lives."

             Simon was trembling as he saw in his own mind the replaying of the events of so long ago.  

            "I remember as well as you do." Said Simon.

            Root nodded.  If Simon thought that the Commander was still the same fairy as he had been 400 years ago he would have been able to see the glistening in his eyes.  But his mind didn't let him see them because such things as tears could not be associated with Julius Root as he is now.

The drink swirled again, Root's eyes following the movement.  "Why do you think I drink?"

            Simon didn't quite know what to say or how to say it.

            "Why does anyone drink?"

            Simon looked on without saying a word.

            "To get rid of thoughts and memories.  Trust me ... It doesn't work as well as they say.  It goes away for a little while... maybe.  Or at least it gets pushed to the back of the mind so that it's not glaring in your face; insignificant things come to the forefront instead.  But then after a sleep it all comes back.  And then it's worse because you feel guilty about wanting to forget.  You should never have wanted to forget things which are that important.  If you did forget - if I forgot - I wouldn't have anything left.  I wouldn't be Julius Root anymore if I managed to forget.  If I forgot… I'd have forgotten the best part of me and what would I be then?"

            Simon knew that he couldn't respond to that.  He didn't understand it and if he tried to pretend that he did he would be worse than a liar.


	5. Part 5

**Author's Note:**  This story is now completely planned out with 10 chapters and will probably be between 13 000 and 18 000 words since each chapter is turning out longer than the last.  You _could _assume that this will mean that since it is planned I will be posting each chapter quicker but if I were you I wouldn't count on it.  I never seem able to stick to my planning for this and so after each section I write I have to reconsider things which I planned to come after since I've usually just stuffed them up.  I will try, but _Birds of a Feather_ is currently my priority since I want to finish that before May (I won't but that's the aim). ****

**400 years ago**

The lanterns scattered around the ward cast a comforting yellow glow over everything they touched.  Even the harsh, recently developed, worry-lines that made Julius' face look a thousand didn't seem quite so shatteringly real and severe in this eerie light.

Over the past days Julius' pacing had slowed, changing into wringing hands, worried, fleeting looks and half-startled, hope filled expressions whenever a doctor or nurse strode past his seat in front of his daughter's room.  Now, even the hand movements had stilled and he simply stared at the door opposite, willing it to open.  Knowing that, in all probability, it wouldn't.  And knowing there wasn't anything he could do about that.

At one point he had been hopeful, still in denial about the reality of the entire situation.  Now, hope had become resigned despair and denial had become a fevered wish, which he knew was about as likely of coming to fruition as the Mud Men making peace with each other.  And now he knew the _real_ reality: He can't do anything for Sally now but he _could_ have done.  It was his fault that she was so badly injured; he could have done more to help her, to save her.  But he hadn't.  And now he would have to live with the consequences.  And Sally might not live as one of those consequences.

Julius could feel the approach of one of the nurses but he didn't bother to lift his head from his hands to acknowledge her like he might once have done.  He had given up on receiving anything but more pity from the hurrying people around him.  So it was only once she had stood there, cleared her throat once or twice, and fidgeted around that he bothered to look up and even then he didn't meet her eyes.

She tried to speak but didn't seem to know what to say to him.

"What is it?"  His voice wasn't threatening or contemptuous; he was too weary with grief and self-condemnation for it to be anything more than a pained whisper.  

"Um... Sir, I..."

"Has Sally's condition changed?"

"It... I mean it had...  I mean…  I'm sorry to tell you but your daughter's dead, sir."

Julius' voice cracked but he made a fierce effort to not let his appearance change and, beside from a wavering look in his eyes and a slight biting of the lower lip, it didn't.  "Does my wife know?"

"A runner has been sent for her."

"Good...  Good.  Could you...?"

"Do you want anything?"

"I... Can I see her?"

"Of course."

And the nurse led the way into the curtained room and pulled a seat towards the bed for him to rest in.

"Would you li--?"

"You can leave now!"  He snapped uncharacteristically.

She nodded her head even though his back was to her and slowly left the room.  Looking back over her shoulder she saw Julius' head turn to the side away from his daughter's still face.  As though he was ashamed for her to see him weeping even if she was no longer there.

But although silent tears were streaking down his face, Julius wasn't weeping.  He was still hoping, hoping that they were wrong, that there was a mistake and she'd wake up and brush her little fingers over his hand in that way which was so infuriatingly ticklish.  He tried to concentrate his magic, force it out through his hand and make it heal her from this illusion of death.

His head wasn't turned in grief away from his life; it was turned in failure away from the one who he'd failed.  And only when the reality of his failure as a healer, as a father, even as a police officer condensed into one tiny, freezing hand... then he wept.  He wept for what she might have been, what might have happened ... what did happen.  All the terrible coincidences that could have happened to anyone but had, for some reason, happened to them.

What sounded like the wailing death-shriek of a banshee shook the halls and all the people in them.  The nurse who had delivered the news felt a tear in her eye and wished there was something she could do.  But there wasn't anything.  She just hoped that once Mrs Root arrived they would be able to help each other through it.  A Fairy that could not let go was a terribly tragic thing as no relief would come naturally for a long time and by then it was often too late.

When Maple arrived minutes or hours later, Julius couldn't lift his head from beside the body of his daughter even if he had been willing to try it.  She stood at the door in complete stillness for another painfully indeterminable time before moving slowly forward and pulling one limp, cold hand into her own, rubbing it as if she would be able to make it warm and living once more and then everything would be alright.

The sat in silence, both lost in thoughts, in grief, even though they could almost have prepared for it, almost could have known that it would come to this.  But how could they have truly known?  How can any parent really accept that their child was going to die before them?

"I'm sorry, Maple.  I'm so, so sorry."

"Why?  It wasn't your fault...  No, it wasn't your fault.  She... maybe it was her time to die.  Maybe... maybe there's a reason for it that we just don't know about yet."

"I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be."

"But I--"

Maple leaned over Sally and grasped her husband's hand in hers.

"It was the fault of the Mud Men, if anyone is to blame, not any fault of yours.  You couldn't have--"

"I should have been able to protect her.  I should have been able to protect _you_."

"Sometimes there is nothing you can do to protect even yourself."

"I should have--"

"You should, you might've, you would have … you couldn't."

"But I--"

"Shhh... I want to watch our daughter rest for one last time."

**Now**

"I can't imagine that you enjoy coming here each year, Simon.  You must have better things to do than play the caring friend role to an old broken man like me.  I'm not worth the trouble and it doesn't help me, you know that.  And I doubt you could be getting anything from this either."

"But what kind of person would I be if I left you here alone, with only young lance-corporals who _don't know_ that they don't really understand the real Julius Root?  Maybe the reason why I still come is so that I feel better.  Now, I've done my share and so it's not my responsibility to come back any time soon.  Maybe that's it, maybe it isn't.  But I don't know."

"How do you know that the people around here don't know me?  Why do _you_ presume to know me?  You can't know who I am after 400 years.  People change.  Maybe the only people who _do_ know me are those young lance-corporals."

"They're scared of you.  They don't think you're intelligent or worthy or their respect.  They don't even think you're a good officer."

Root opened his mouth with a comeback but pulled himself up.  Then, after a minute of looking down at his hands and staring wistfully at the door to the room, Simon was about to break the silence when Root finally spoke.  But the whisper was so quiet that a human would have brushed it off as wind through the trees; they were spoken more to himself than to his companion.

"Maybe they do know me."  

He looked up and met Simon's eyes with a ferocity which Simon had not been expecting.  "Maybe they do know me and that's who I am!  Maybe I'm a horrible officer!  Maybe I'm as dumb as a troll and as unworthy of note as a lump of moss!"  Then his voice softened once more to an almost scared, low tone.  "Maybe I am something to be afraid of."

"Possibly.  But what do you think you are?  Who do you think you are?"

Root looked back down at his hands, either in thought or in rebellion against the question.  Simon spoke again, his voice harsher than it had been in years.

"_Well_?  I know that you're an elf, named Julius Sparticus Root born to Ryannan and David Root who is currently employed as Commander of the Lower Elements Police-force Recon units.  But _who are you_?  Are you Julius?  Are you Root?  Are you a Commander? Are you a Captain?  Are you a piece of slime?  Are you Beetroot?"  Then his voice dropped in volume for the last options.  "Are you a father?  Are you a husband?"  And Root couldn't imagine that they were rhetorical questions.

Root's whole body was shaking with emotion as he listened to the options, listened to what he had been, and what he was, and maybe what he had never really been.  He had never been a proper father or a good husband; he knew that without a doubt.  He wasn't Julius.  Simon was one of the 4 people which still had the right to call him by that name and it was such a rarity that 'Julius' was almost a separate entity.  Was he a heart- and soul-less man who was defined by the harshness, cold use of his last name?  When was the last time he had introduced himself to someone as Julius?  It was always 'Commander Julius Root, LEP' or something of the like.  Did he even think of himself as having something as personal as a first name anymore?  Was he a Commander?  Yes, he was a Commander.  He knew where he stood with his officers.  But was he a _good _Commander..?  Maybe not.  There are others who are younger, more inventive and flexible, who are respected by the newer breed of pencil-pushing Council members and quite likely to usurp him sometime reasonably soon.  Was he still a Captain simply trapped in the rank of a Commander?  Maybe.  His heart was in the actuality of the recon job.  He had never been very good with the planning or administration and hated what that paper-work position said about him.  He wanted to be out in the field doing the dirty work, dressed in those old green knickerbockers and the annoying buckled shoes.  Out on an assignment knowing that the planning which those above him were doing was useless since when it came to the crunch you could never plan a recon.  And if the day ever came when you could you wouldn't even need recon anymore.

_Who was he?         _

Simon slowly sank back down into his chair without taking his eyes from his friend, automatically adjusting his injured leg so it would be comfortable.

"We all change.  It's not a bad thing and the idea of change is all that you can be certain about.  I've changed just in this conversation.  You've changed over the years; I can see it.  You can see it."

"But what if you don't know what you're changing into?  What you've _already _changed into?  Even what you changed from?"

"Then you're normal.  No one can ever put their finger on something like this and whenever they try the ideas slip through their mental nets.  But the inability to truly know yourself is half the fun, wouldn't you agree?"  His voice was forcefully and painfully cheerful.

"No.  How can you know anything if you can't even know yourself?"


	6. Part 6

**400 years ago**

"They've called you back haven't they?"

Root nodded, scrunching up the paper with his reinstatement written on it, dropping it to the ground.

"They could have waited longer.  They couldn't know if you're mentally and emotionally fit for duty."

"They need me.  The situation in the city is terrible, not to mention what's happening Outside.  They need all the officers they can get.  Some of the top field fairies have been pulled to train up the new recruits – everyone knows we need them – and so there isn't many left to take up the slack.  Commander Gum can't get me any more time."  He looked down at the floor and then back up to meet his wife's eyes.  "I'm sorry, Maple."

"Not sorry enough.  I can't imagine why you're defending them like this.  They're forcing you back to work in a situation which is completely out of control when Sally only died a month ago.  Don't they know what that's like for you?  What it's like for us?"

"Red Gum knows.  His son died in combat two years ago.  There's nothing he can do for us, the Council have already given me much more time than they should have, if only because Sally was so young."

"But Julius!  How can you let them do this to you?  You don't have to go back.  They can get Simon to take your place, or Briar or _someone_!"

"Simon can't work in the field ever again.  His leg is too mutilated from a Mud Man bullet for it to be healed.  He'll have a limp for the rest of his life.  He's even retired from the LEP.  He can't stand having a desk job, he needs to be out there in action."

"That's what you're doing as well.  You can't stand being coped up in this little house with me any longer.  You can't stand mourning our daughter any longer.  Being out in dangerous situations is better than remembering your daughter, is it?"

"Maple, there's nothing I can do—"

"You didn't answer the question.  You prefer being out in the field than here where you should be!  I never would have thought Julius Root to be so disrespectful about the death of your own daughter.  Especially since if it weren't for you she would still be alive.  You should care more about her than that.  How can you thrive the chase of petty criminals more than you wish to have our Sally back?  How can you?"

"Yes, I do need to be out there.  No, I can't stand sitting here any more, I need to be doing something.  But yes, I would do anything to have our daughter back."

"Then stay.  Refuse to return to work.  Stay here with me.   Remember her.  Please, Julius, please…"

"Staying here won't bring her back."

"But it will help you."

"Being myself will help me, Maple."

"And so you're only yourself when you're out on patrol, risking death and danger.  Risking my loss if something was to happen to you.  That's you, is it?  Captain Root is who you are.  Then who did I marry?  Is there even a person called Julius underneath all those guns and ugly green uniform?  Where's my husband if the only person you are is the one who leads charges against criminals?"

She paused in her speech before backing away from him till she was in the door leading to their bedroom.

"I used to think that the Police were there to protect us, to keep us safe.  But now I know that it the police who take over our lives and hearts and give nothing in return that we should be guarding ourselves against."

Her voice faltered then became strong again.

"I wish you had never even existed Julius."

And she turned, tears streaming down her face, and walked quickly into their room, shutting the door behind her with the softest of noises.

Julius sank down onto the floor with his head on his knees.  He liked to imagine he could hear sobs through the door but he didn't move because of them.

Later, he hauled himself to his feet and pulled on his LEP uniform.

As he was walking out the door a tear tracked its way down his cheek but he quickly brushed it away.  By the time he got to Police Plaza there was no trace of his grief for the family he had just lost all over again.

**Now**

Simon's eyes moved from the floor to the yellowing back of the picture, to the face of his old Captain where his eyes could only linger for a second or two before feeling the guilt and pain of the ages.

"I'm the Tin Man, aren't I?  I'm so cold and heartless I can't even get my wife to love me.  The fairy without a heart, that's me."

            "Sir, no you aren't."

            "Why do you still call me 'sir'?  I'm not your Captain and I haven't been in a long time.  Am I so dispassionate that not even friends will call me by my name?"

            "I call you 'sir', Julius, only because you deserve it.  You are a remarkable person, a remarkable officer and a good man.  You deserve the respect of being called sir.  I don't know of anyone else who deserves that honourific more than you do.  No one else could match up to what you've done over the years, how courageous you've been through everything.  Including your family situations."

            "There's a very thin line between acting from courage and acting from fear.  I don't think there's a line at all; they're the same.  Acts that you consider courageous may have been a coward's act from the inside perspective."

            "I understand that, or at least I think I do…  But you've never been the Tin Man."

            "Who am I then?  Am I Dorothy looking for a home where she belongs?  Am I the Scarecrow who doesn't have two braincells to rub together?  Am I the Lion who hides from the sight of his own tail?"

            "You're all of them.  You _are_ Dorothy when she thinks that she doesn't belong anywhere – when she does.  You _are_ the Scarecrow when he realises that he has to trust his intuition, training and instincts it be the best he can be – that's how he's smarter than any brain-surgeon.  You _are_ the Lion when he understands that an act of courage is doing something for the greater good – even if they may been seen by others as a cowardly thing to do; when he has enough courage to do the hard things which no one will like or respect him for."

            Root swallowed and looked down at his feet.

            "Look at me, Julius.  Look at my eyes, know that I'm not lying." 

            He reluctantly raised his head to meet the eyes of his friend.

            "And you are the Tin Man.  You have love and passion and vitality, even if you don't know it.  And even if it's hidden away like something to be ashamed of."

            Simon's gaze bore holes in this friend's safety nets willing him to fall and open up; and knowing that if he didn't, Simon himself would have to give in.

            "You're still in love with Maple."

            Julius closed his eyes for a second, and then opened them again.  They were bright, shining, slightly glazed with tears.  

            He nodded.

            "Yes, I still love Maple.

The moment broke but it came back with Root's next words.

"Why under Earth do we have to live so long?"

            Simon looked up once again to his face.  The picture had been placed down reverently on the desk and now Root's eyes were bright with pain.

            "We fairies live too long.  The lives of the Mud Men are shorter... but sweeter.  They know that they have a specific amount of time and that time nips them on the heels and makes them live life quickly and fully.  We are too lazy.  We spend time contemplating when we could be doing things.  We act like those on a holiday when the end looks so far away; laying about, putting things off for another day when it's not so windy or we've finished that book.  We do that.  We put things off for so, so long - too long sometimes.  Most of the time it takes so long that whatever the act was is now no longer relevant and we convince ourselves that it wasn't worth it in the first place."

            Root sighed and picked up the picture once more, flipping it over to trace the lines of the picture with his forefinger.

            "Yet everything is worth something however long it takes for you to end up doing it.  Everything has a worth - even something as small and tiny as a ribbon or a nail.  The ribbon could be the favourite of a little girl and the nail could be all that is holding a roof together for one more night.

"I spent too long putting things off because I felt I had all the time in this world and the next.  And now I just keep thinking... what if?  What if I'd been better to Maple after Sal... left us?  What if when she went off I'd followed her?  What if we hadn't put off having children so that Sally wasn't our first?  If we'd had another child to hold us together…  What _D'Arvit _if?!"

            He breathed in.

            "I hate it sometimes.  Our lives.  How long they are.  It so long to sit with regrets and despair and knowledge of a lack of change.  We fairies are too closeted because of our lives and their length.  We think we are immortal and have all the time from now till the world's end to do the things we want to do.  We don't.  We don't have enough time to do anything properly.  Our lives are so spaced out that we never really try our hardest because there is always another day and another try.  We don't always have another try.  There isn't always another day for some.  There mightn't be another day for me."

            Simon looked up from the patterns on the floor.

            _What was Root thinking?_            


	7. Part 7

**400 Years Ago**

Julius can hear the sounds of the crowds, only slightly muffled by the wooden door between him and the parade. He turned back to his wife.

"I'm sorry, Mapel. Almost everyone's on duty today; everyone Underground organises an illegal jaunt Above for Beltide night. We need the entire force just to keep the fairies under control."

"You said almost everyone."

"Only those who were on for the last shift yesterday are exempt. Otherwise…" Julius spread his hands in submission.

"You said that you had applied for the day off."

"Yes, along with every other fairy on the force."

"You have seniority, you should have gotten preference."

"No one got preference. No one got the day off at all. We've gotten a few threats lately and they point towards some kind of rebellion or terrorist action that might take place today. You can go to Tamarind and Brice's place for the party by yourself. All your friends and family will be there, you won't even notice the fact that I'm not there. Execpt when the meat turns out to be properly cooked."

Julius grinned at his wife.

She didn't grin back. 

"I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do."

"The Beltide parades were Sally's favourite."

Julius' bit his lip. "I know. I remember.  Don't pretend that I don't, because I do.  Don't think that I'm not grieving, because I am.  Don't think that I want to be in there, keeping the faux peace, when things are just all so _Al'ahgei _messed up!  And, frankly, you don't let me stay.  You don't let me keep Sally close, or even let her go, because I have to be here, the strong one, staying normal, for _D'Arvit's_ sake.  Because you are the center of the world.  You can't give her up, so how can I do anything?  I'm here, for you.  I can't be off in the land of fairy-tale grieving for a hundred years, because I have to be here to make sure you put your shoes on the right feet."

Maple said nothing; there were tears in her eyes.

"You could pretend that this world is real once in a while, Maple, you could pretend that you know where the ground is, that you know it will always be there, under your feet.  Know that I'll always be here for you.  That would help me.  And it would help you.  You need to go on, join your old friends for a day out.  You need to come back here, back to me, Maple.  Sally can't come back, you can.  I can, I can be the man you married.  I'm sure I can be him again, although he seems a long way off."

"Things have changed, Julius.  We can't go back to that.  You talk about reality, but this is the reality.  The us of then in gone.  _Us_ is gone, Julius."

Julius sighed.  "No, we aren't.  See that.  Please."

"You don't understand.  You never did!  Go, go off on your little patrols, pretending you are doing something for the good of the city ect. ect. blahblahbullshit!"

She slammed their bedroom door behind her.  Julius pulled his hat onto his head.  It felt the same as it always did.  It smelt the same as it had yesterday.  It made him just another copper, another idiot with a badge and a power trip.

While directing a crowd of youngsters away from the area where fireworks were set up, he saw Maple across the street.  She was walking fast, her arms barely swinging.  A heavy suitcase, the tag swinging of it that still proclaimed the destination of their honeymoon, weighed her down.

Julius sank to the hard cold street, tears streaming down his face.

One of the young fairies asked him what was wrong, but there was no answer.  The others pulled her away.

**Now**

"You know that too, don't you, Simon? You know that moments and lives are fleeting things, and you never know when someone's life might end. Abruptly. Unfairly. I know that. Oh, _God_, do I know that?" Root drew in a shuddering breath, sucking the air from the room hoping that it would give him courage. It didn't. He opened his mouth to say something more but the words wouldn't come and he took a swig from the whiskey bottle instead.

"I know that. Of course I know that! We all know that. For everyone, it's somewhere within them, the knowledge, deep down at least. It's a criteria of mother's everywhere to say 'always wear clean underwear because you never know when you might be hit by a troll'? And you think I don't know that from experience, Root?" Simon spat out the name, not respecting his friend or his mourning anymore. "You sit there in your nice, big chair and act like you're the injured martyr. You're not, Julius! You're not the only one! Don't ever think that you're the only one! I've been closer to death, more often and more recently. Don't act like this with me, Julius! Don't. Please. I don't want to hate you but…"

Root glanced down at his desk and felt twinges of guilt stream through his body, tugging at the nerves and heightening the senses. "I… I'm sorry, Si. I'm sorry. It's just… Sometimes it all seems to be so out of control. And there's the irony right there. I've spent my entire life trying to keep things controlled, keep them stable and safe – for myself and for others. I never wanted to be anything other than a policeman. Never. That was my dream. To be The Plucky Officer that Saved the Day that were the major characters in my childhood stories. There was nothing in my childhood but stories, really. Stories of happiness and righteousness and feasts every second day. I guess it was like that for most of the kids, though. We lived off fiction because there wasn't enough food to go round."

"It wasn't the best time to be born. There were the few of us on the hill with rich feasts and social superiority, but they were scared as well. And they were – we were - even more scared. They were scared that people would rise up against them – which they did. I'm going to specifically ask to not be born into a revolution next incarnation. And I'm going to ask to not go bald. And to have a better nose. And to be an inch or so taller. That's my dream."

Root snorted out a pathetic, ironical laugh. "Believing in reincarnation? How very pagan of you, Simon."

"Well, it works for me right now. Another life would be good since this one seems to be dragging itself along at a snail's pace. There are good bits, don't get me wrong, there are bloody _fantastic_ bits – but the stress of those years does get me down sometimes." 

"I'm tired too… Always tired. It takes me half an hour to get out of bed now, because I'm just scared of what the day will bring, the stresses that shall take over for the next 10 hours."

"I know. But we shouldn't. You were right - we do take life for granted because of the time which we are given. But that doesn't mean that we can't make more of our lives, that everyone does this. Do you know anyone like that? Any of those awe-inspiring people who do whatever they want to do, whenever they want to do it? And don't give a damn if the entire universe is saying they can't. Do you? Because if you do, watch them. And even if you can't learn anything, you can have a hell of a time observing their living."

"Holly. She's like that. Captain Holly Short." Root's tone was slightly mocking, but not as self-degrading as it had been only a minute ago. "She does that all the time. Everyday. You tell her she can't do something, and she does it. Even if you've got pages and pages of why she shouldn't be able to do it. If any of the Council could comprehend the idea of a female in a higher position of power, I'd be out on the pavement singing until people payed me to stop."

"You sound like you respect her. As if you even like her. I thought you were immune to emotions such as that. Should I be worried about finding revealing pictures of her hidden somewhere in this very office?"

Root coughed, half laughing. "I'm old enough to be her grandfather! But I do respect her. It's almost impossible to know Holly and not respect her – if only for the admirable way she handles Chix Verbil. And yes, I do like her. She's hard to like, but she's harder to hate. It's not in her personality to be likable, but she's got such confidence – most of the time anyway – that I just wish I was like her. It's admiration. You can't help feeling that she's a better person than you are, and always will be. Anyfairy would. And… well, she's saved my life more than once. More than once a year since she's been here, actually. I couldn't hate her if I tried. Even if I had a reason to.

"She's saved my life. And she… Isn't that an irony, Simon?"


End file.
